My kids tend to workout on fairly empty stomachs, as do I. They would rather sleep as much as possible before their early workouts and just eat a little something, and I can't waste the hour after taking my thyroid medication before I can eat sitting around doing nothing. This summer, we did a fairly good job of making sure the meals that happened before the occasional evening workout or baseball game were very light -- mostly plain chicken and rice.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday, we had nachos. When Sabine planned her menu, Tim noticed the nachos for Thursday night and pointed out that there was a race that evening. It turned out that the girls didn't run the race, but both Tim and, surprisingly, the parents were scheduled to run. I suggested changing the menu, but we sort of forgot about it.
In the morning, Tim again pointed out the nachos on the meal plan, but said that if we ate by 5:00, he should be okay.
Not so much.
I don't think it really mattered to me, I was running a mile with the other parents of cross country team members and was going to be fairly miserable about it regardless (would like to be a runner, not much of a runner!). I ate some nachos, I ran the mile, I was fairly miserable. Not a big deal.
Tim, on the other hand, was running a 5K (on a track, 12.5 laps of sheer boredom), and the first thing he said after his finish (with a perfectly respectable but slower than his goal time) was, "I'm going to kill Sabine."
As the other mothers (blog readers) and I had been discussing the nachos, this ordinarily unacceptable statement was met with a round of laughter, and a chorus of, "because she served you nachos!"
I'm not sure, but I think I heard Tim growl at us.
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